Chapter 3 The seduction Strategy

Margaret's pov:

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Richard's face tighten with tension. His emotions were all over the place, a mix of anger, fear, and exhaustion.

"Tell me your idea," he said cautiously, his voice low, already dreading whatever was coming next.

I turned to him, letting the words spill out without hesitation. "Why don't I seduce Malcolm?" I said

flatly. "Get close to him. Date him. Extract money from him. Then I'll pass it to you so you can rebuild your business from scratch."

His face twisted in disbelief. "Hell no!" he shouted, standing abruptly. "You want to loiter around with a man like Malcolm? Are you okay? How could such a disgusting thought even come to your mind?!"

Malcolm Blackwood. One of California's top ten business moguls. Powerful. Ruthless. Wealthy beyond measure. A man known not just for his money, but for his unshakable discipline and street-smart instincts. He was respected and feared in the business world. To Malcolm, every fallen man was an opportunity. Every business collapse, a stepping stone to his next victory.

I sat up, unfazed by his outburst. "Do you want to stay poor forever?" I fired back. "Do you want to remain wretched while the world laughs at you? I'm offering a solution, Richard. Think about it. Really think."

With that, I turned over and went to sleep or at least pretended to. The storm I'd stirred didn't bother me. I'd already made up my mind.

He didn't sleep. I could feel him pacing, restless. I knew my words would echo in his head all night. Desperation is a powerful thing I'd learned long ago.

When morning came, the soft light crept across the room. I felt his hand on my shoulder, gentle, hesitant.

"I thought about what you said," he began, his voice trembling. "But... I'm afraid. I love you, Margaret. I don't want another man touching you, feeling your body... your breasts..."

I sat up and cupped his face, softening my voice. "Don't worry, baby," I whispered. "We're not giving him everything. It's just seduction. I'll tease, flirt, make him believe but I won't sleep with him. I promise."

He looked uncertain. "Are you sure? No sex? Don't fall for him, Margaret. Please..."

I smiled and brushed my fingers along his jaw. "I love only you, Richard and money. I could never trade either."

A small, strained smile broke through his worry, and against every moral instinct he had left, he nodded.

It was decided.

I would seduce Malcolm for love, for money, for survival.

That night, we clinked glasses, a quiet, tense celebration of something that didn't feel right but felt necessary. The room wasn't filled with joy, just desperation, dressed up as determination. Later, we made love, though it didn't feel like love. It was raw, urgent, a release of fear and frustration. We were bracing ourselves for the storm we'd chosen.

The next morning, I dressed with precision. My outfit wasn't accidental: a sleek, form-fitting dress that hugged my curves, showing just enough cleavage to intrigue, and a slit high enough to tempt. My makeup was bold but refined. The perfume I wore the one Malcolm used to compliment years ago lingered in the air like bait.

When I arrived at Malcolm's office, the sound of my heels echoed across the marble floor. His secretary led me in, and the moment he looked up from his desk, his expression shifted.

"Well, well..." he said with a slow grin, rising from his chair. "Margaret? Is that really you?"

I smiled warmly, opening my arms. "Malcolm."

We hugged friendly, but long enough to hint at something more.

"You look... absolutely stunning," he said, stepping back to take me in. "It's been what, five, six years?"

"Closer to seven," I said with a light laugh. "But who's counting?"

"Apparently I should've been," he replied, his eyes sliding down my legs. "What brings you here, out of the blue?"

"I was in the area," I said coyly. "Thought I'd drop by. See an old friend."

He grinned. "Well, I'm not letting you leave without lunch."

Soon, we were seated in a private booth at an upscale restaurant. The waiters moved like shadows, pouring wine and setting plates as we shared laughter and selective memories.

"Remember that weekend in Vegas with the Grant brothers?" he chuckled. "You were the only one sober enough to stop me from betting the company jet."

I laughed, swirling my wine. "And you still tried anyway. If I hadn't pulled you off that table..."

He shook his head, smiling. "You always did have a way of keeping me in line."

Then his tone shifted. "How's Richard?"

My smile faltered just a little. "He's... managing," I said softly. "He made a bad investment. Trusted the wrong people."

"I heard," Malcolm said, his voice dripping with sympathy I didn't believe. "It's a tough world. One wrong step and the wolves circle."

I met his gaze. "He's trying to stand again. But it's hard. People turn their backs fast when you fall."

Malcolm leaned back, studying me. "And what about you, Margaret? Where do you stand in all this?"

I let the silence linger just enough to make him wonder then smiled. "Exactly where I need to be."

Our eyes locked. The game had begun.

I started visiting him more often after that. At first, he probably thought I was just lonely or nostalgic. But every visit was a move, every smile, every laugh, a step closer to my goal.

One afternoon, I showed up in a black dress that shimmered under the office lights shorter than usual, hugging my body just right.

He looked up, startled but pleased. "Margaret," he said, standing. "You're really making a habit of this... not that I'm complaining."

I smiled, walking toward him with a gentle sway. "Maybe I missed our conversations," I said lightly.

We talked about business, old memories, and harmless chatter. But the air was thick with tension now. His eyes kept drifting, and I made sure to let him. At one point, my keys slipped from my hand and clattered near the edge of his desk. I bent slowly to pick them up, aware of his eyes burning into me.

When I rose, he was standing closer than before.

"Are you playing with fire, Margaret?" he asked, his voice low.

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze without fear.

"Maybe," I said softly. "Maybe I already burned."

What followed wasn't spoken. Malcolm flung me on his desk as if I weighed nothing. He said "I'm going to punish you so fucking well mama for playing with fire" "I am going to fuck you hard till you can no longer feel your legs". I dared Malcolm to fuck me, choke me, ruin me and mark me until I am a moaning crying mess, leaking all over his desk.

Malcolm spread my legs and sucked the juicy hole between my legs. I couldn't hold it but moaned so loud. I moaned loudly while Malcolm sucked my dripping pussy. What followed up was an intense sex with my tits clapping as Malcolm gave me the best doggy I've ever had in a while.

It was the beginning of our secret affair. A secret that wasn't truly a secret because my husband Richard knew. And yet, he said nothing. He had agreed. But his silence didn't soothe me; it only made the air between us heavier. I could feel the bitterness growing inside him, quiet but sharp, like a blade waiting for the right moment to cut.

As for me? I had gotten what I wanted. Or at least, I thought I had.